


Circle of Life

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Post Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:46:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4884262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by William Charlier</p>
<p>Cdr. Roger Blake and the crew of the Federation Deep Space Patrol Ship Defiance are transported via a black hole to a strange universe where the Federation is a totalitarian state. After a meeting with Comissioner Sleer, Blake decides to seek out Avon, who was captured on Gauda Prime after the deaths of his crew. The plot twists and turns in the tradition of the original series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circle of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).

Admiral John Wesley was a proud man. After all, the _Defiance_ project was his baby. It was he who first presented the idea to the fleet command. The new ships were needed to protect the more remote outposts of the ever expanding Federation. The old ships just didn't have the speed or the armament to defend Federation interests from the pirates and raiders from outside Federation borders. A new ship was needed that could be dispatched quickly and alone to face the danger presented by the remote colonies.

Yes, it was his baby. He had presented the concept. He had chosen the design engineers. He had campaigned for the funding. He even arranged to have the project and the prototype ship named after his first command. _Defiance_ \- a proud name for a proud ship. Now his baby was coming to life.

Still, it was with mixed feelings that he prepared to leave his office for the launching ceremonies. The pride and joy of seeing the brain child he had given the last five years of his life to becoming reality was mixed with a sadness that although won, the battle was over. The thrill of victory was mixed with a desire that the thrill of conflict could continue. Oh, if only he could command her himself. He remembered the feeling of command. He remembered the throbbing of the engines. You could feel the vibrations through the cushions of the command chair. The responsibility for your crew was not unlike the responsibility of a father for his children. These feelings could never be replaced.

No, John Wesley had fought this last battle, completed his last project. It was time to pass on the reins to a new generation. It was time to retire.

In his heart, he knew that he has selected the right man. A talented young officer whom he saw as himself forty years ago. John Wesley felt that he could live on in the person of twenty-eight year old Commander Roger Blake.   
  


Blake knew that he had been given a great honor. He was the youngest man ever to have attained the rank of full commander. The pressure of so many people expecting so much of him was great, but he knew he was up to it. Nothing in his life had ever filled him with as much pride or confidence as being personally selected for command by Admiral John Wesley. An excitement welled up in him as he took his last inspection tour of his ship before the ceremony. _His_ ship - the very thought nearly made him swoon. This first cruise would only be a shake down with a skeleton crew, but soon he would be departing on patrol with a full crew of forty-two men and women. His number one, Lt. Cdr. Barbara Tomkins, would now be briefing the rest of the fourteen member shake down crew in preparation of today's launch. Again he had to brace himself - a hand-picked crew of the most promising young officers and enlisted personnel the fleet had to offer had been placed under his command.

A tone from his commlink brought him from his thoughts. He switched it on. "Blake," he responded.

"Admiral Wesley has arrived, sir." It was the voice of Ensign Toni Ellis, a young but very capable pilot. She was the junior officer on the new ship, but the tension didn't seem to affect her at all. "He requests your presence on the bridge."

"I'm just finishing my inspection of the engine room. I'll be right up."

Blake hurried to the bridge where the Admiral greeted him with a smile and a handshake. "Well, Commander, is she ready to fly?" 

Blake saluted and said, "Yes, sir. We're all set to break some speed records today. Chief Engineer Piper says that warm-up went smoothly and the new ion drive units are operating perfectly."

The two men left the bridge and went to the space dock platform together. As they walked, Wesley watched Blake. "Nervous, Roger?" he asked after a time.

"No, sir," Blake responded, sharply, as if startled. "Well, maybe just a little," he added, with a smile. The admission seemed to calm him, and he relaxed visibly.

"I don't know," said Wesley, "if it were me, I'd be real nervous. After all, the eyes of the entire Federation are on you today, not to mention their hopes for the future."

Blake stopped suddenly. "Thanks," he said, sarcastically, then after a pause, "sir."

They stood looking at each other a moment. Finally, the Admiral said, "Seriously, Roger, this is a very important day in the history of mankind. If all goes well, we'll open up a whole new era in space exploration. If we fail..."

"We won't fail, sir," Blake cut him off, "We can't fail. Everything has been checked and rechecked. This ship is ready. My crew is ready... I'm ready."

Wesley put his hand on Blake's shoulder. "I knew I had the right man," he said smiling, "We'd better get moving. It wouldn't do to keep the President waiting."

They entered the crowded hall to a standing ovation. Blake had never seen so many dignitaries in one place at the same time. The entire Federation council was there, even Councilwoman Shalaya. She had opposed the project from the beginning, saying that it was too costly. He had expected that she would refuse to attend the ceremony as a last protest, but there she was. As they took their place on the dais, the president rose and stepped up to the podium. The applause resumed even louder than before.

The President waved and smiled to the crowd, as if nourished by the cheers. When the crowd settled down, he waited a long minute before beginning his speech. He began slowly, welcoming the honored guests and dignitaries by name. He paused after each name, leading the crowd in applause for each person.   
  


Once back on the bridge, Blake wasted no time clearing the moorings and getting the ship clear of the space dock. As soon as they were clear, Ellis executed several short turns to get the ship on its departure heading. It was time to give the new engines a workout. As they eased the power up, _Defiance_ seemed to jump forward, as if eager to show off its capabilities. Lt. Cdr. Piper was at the engineering station on the bridge. He smiled at the way his engines were performing.

Tomkins was at the scanner station monitoring activity ahead. In the Med Deck, Dr. Kline sat nervously. He didn't mind space travel, but would prefer to be busy and not have to think about it. He thought about going to the bridge, but decided it was better to stay out of the way. He picked up the medical supply inventory from his desk and reread it for the sixth time.

The engine room was a sharp contrast to the Med Deck. Lt. Baker and his eight engineering techs were busy making adjustments and monitoring instruments. Constant information was being relayed to the engineering station on the bridge, where Mr. Piper was issuing orders and keeping the captain informed.

Everything was running smoothly. Power had been taken up to eighty percent, and the ship was screaming ahead at a speed never before imagined.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded. The ship was being pulled off course. Tomkins adjusted the scanners to check on the source of the new influence. She didn't understand. Why hadn't it been picked up on the last sweep? She cleared her throat. "Skipper, it just appeared out of nowhere. It's a void. A black hole. It's pulling us in!" 

"Reverse engines," Blake ordered, "Full power to stern." Ellis was way ahead of him. Her hand was already on the control, and she reacted immediately. But it was to no avail. Even the ion drive couldn't break the hold of the most powerful force in the universe - a black hole. Defiance was going in, and nothing could stop it.

When disaster strikes each man reacts in his own way. Some deny. Some simply accept. Blake sat back calmly in his chair and watched as the black hole grew on the view screen. The few seconds dragged on like hours, until all went black.

On Earth, everyone stood in shocked silence. Telemetry had just stopped suddenly. _Defiance_ had been destroyed. That was the only answer. Long range scanners could not locate her. Later, investigating ships would not even be able to find debris. A mystery with no solution. No one would have a clue as to what happened, because the hole was gone as fast as it came - without a trace.

Admiral Wesley would not know this. The shock was too much for his heart. As he breathed his last on the floor where he had fallen, his last thought was _My fault, I should have known._   
  


Dr. Kline sat up on the floor. He shook his head, but realized it was a mistake as he grabbed the corner of his desk to stabilize himself. When the vertigo passed he stood up tentatively. Taking a quick inventory of himself, he muttered, "Well, bruised but not broken."

He took a swig from the flask he kept in his desk to clear the cobwebs. When he got no response on the intercom, he grabbed his emergency kit and ran out. "First engineering", he said to himself as he moved down the corridor.

The hatch to the engine room was jammed tight. He tried the code lock but the hatch wouldn't budge. He would have to come back with Piper.

He stopped short as he entered the bridge. There was no sound at all save the chirping of the computers. No one was moving. He went to Piper first, as he was the closest. The med scanner revealed that the cut on his head was superficial, so Kline gave him a shot to bring him around. He went to each of the others in turn waking them when he was sure there were no major injuries. Ellis had a nasty burn on her left forearm but it was easily treated. When all had been tended to Kline turned to Blake. "I suppose I should ask what happened," he said.

"Frankly Doc, I'm surprised any of us are alive to be asking that," Blake said, rubbing his neck.

They were interrupted by Piper. "Skipper, I can't get any response from the engine room."

Kline responded, "I tried to check on them - I couldn't get in."

The three men ran to the engine room hatch. Piper checked a gauge, and satisfied with the atmospheric integrity, keyed in the code to open the door. The door slid open.

"I tried that. It wouldn't open for me," Kline said.

They entered the engine room. A light mist hung in the air. "This explains why the door wouldn't open before," said Piper, "It's anti-fouling mist. It automatically releases when radiation is present." He paused, looked around and asked "Where's Baker? Where's everyone? The escape pods are still in place."

Piper immediately went to work on inspecting the engines. He didn't have his men to help, but everyone's lives depended on these engines. He called up the readout on the engine status recorder. He was right, they had surged. It probably happened when the black hole released them. That explained the auto shutdown, and the radiation. Everything seemed fine now except the rad-detector indicator. It was off the scale, and stuck. He went to the computer terminal and ordered up a replacement. All in all, they had gotten off easy. The only thing he couldn't explain was the dust that seemed to be everywhere. Anti-fouling mist dissipates with no residue.

Piper walked over to Blake and Kline, and reported his findings. When he got to the part about the dust, Kline's eyes grew wide. He reached down to the panel and wiped up some of the dust with his finger. "My God," said Kline, "they're still here." He held out his hand so that the others could see. "Mr. Baker, and the others. This is all that's left of them."

Blake returned to the bridge, leaving the doctor and the engineer to gather the ash of the engine crew. They deserved as good a burial as possible under the circumstances. As he walked along the corridor, he began to lose confidence in himself. What kind of commander loses two thirds of his crew on their maiden voyage? He forced the thoughts from his mind. His remaining crew members would need his leadership if they were going to survive. He could not be distracted by guilt.

When he arrived at the bridge the women were hard at work. They had already assessed the damage and had begun repairs on the damaged systems. Tomkins had set the comm station on auto-distress, and was working on the view screen. Ellis was repairing and reprogramming the nav computer. Blake pitched in and helped with the view screen. He was eager to see exactly where they were.

The repairs took the next two hours. When the screen was activated, they were all stunned. If you could judge by the star groups, they were drifting in space at the exact location where they had entered the black hole.

"Why hasn't anyone responded to our beacon?" Blake asked to no one in particular. "Are you sure it's sending?"

Tomkins rechecked the comm station. "It's still sending," she said. "I don't understand why I can't get anything on fleet comm. We should be well in range of at least a dozen ships and stations."

Blake went to the scanner station. Nothing. There should be a space station orbiting Omega five, but it wasn't there. Something was definitely amiss.

When everyone else had rested, Blake had made a decision. They would head for Earth - or at least where Earth should be. They would remain cautious, travel slowly. The scanners were set to sweep long range in a full circle around the ship. The comm panel was set to scan all frequencies it could possibly receive.

Blake was dead on his feet. He had to get some rest - clear his head. He left Tomkins on watch and went to his cabin. Sleep didn't come easy. His mind raced. How could everything have gone so wrong? Finally exhaustion won out and he drifted off, his dreams haunted by the faces of the nine men and women lost in engineering.   
  


"Skipper, I have three bogeys on the long range. Tight formation, intercept course."

The words seemed to just drift in the air for a moment, then suddenly, Blake was wide awake. At last, some sign that they weren't the only living beings left in the galaxy. He switched on the intercom, "I'm on my way," he barked. He ran to the bridge still pulling on his tunic as he left his cabin.

"Report," he commanded sharply.

Lt. Cdr. Tomkins looked up from her scanner console. "I have a bad feeling about this, sir. The incoming vessels have broken formation and appear to be maneuvering to surround us. Recommend defensive posture."

"I agree," replied Blake, "Activate defense shields, prime laser batteries."

The tension was high as the three ships silently took up positions surrounding the _Defiance_. The ships just hung in space, sizing each other up for what seemed an eternity. At last a tone broke the silence. Ellis pressed a switch locking the comm scanner to the frequency of the incoming message.

"You have violated restricted space," a voice said, "Identify yourself and prepare to be boarded."

Blake hesitated a moment, then activated his commlink. "We apologize for the intrusion, sir, we were unaware of your restriction. Our intentions are peaceful."

The voice just repeated, "Identify yourself and prepare to be boarded."

"This is the patrol craft _Defiance_ ," Blake responded, "Cdr. Roger Blake commanding."

"Blake!" the other shouted and the commlink went dead.

Suddenly the ship jerked hard. "They've fired on us, sir!" Ellis said, "Defense shield four weakened fifteen percent."

The battle was over almost before it began. The _Defiance_ launched a missile at the ship directly in front of them. The ship was destroyed on impact. The other two ships, realizing that they were outgunned, turned to run. Blake ordered his crew to pursue one of the vessels. The ship tried to maneuver, but could not shake _Defiance_. At last it turned to fight. The ship fired a volley of three plasma bolts, but only one hit its mark. _Defiance's_ powerful forward shield swallowed the bolt, weakening only slightly.

Blake returned fire with the forward lasers. Four shots later, the pursuit ship was disabled, the battle finished. The last shot had breached the hull, killing most of the crew.   
  


Section Leader Kronin just lay in the corner of the cabin where the last impact had thrown him. He knew he was finished. Even if his injuries didn't prove fatal, he knew that the Federation didn't salvage wrecked ships to save one lowly section leader. If anyone else had survived, they'd have had the emergency bulkhead open by now. He estimated he had maybe four hours of air before he died of oxygen depletion.

Kronin didn't know how long he had been unconscious - perhaps he was dead and was on the other side. Finally, he got the courage to open his eyes. He was in a strange room surrounded by strange faces.

The man nearest him was holding a device he didn't recognize. He crossed the room and whispered something to a large man who was waiting by a table. The large man walked slowly over to him. He looked concerned somehow. He leaned in close and said quietly, "Why did you attack us? We told you we were non-hostile." He paused a moment then continued, "My name is Roger Blake. I command this vessel." He paused again. "Dr. Kline says there's no more he can do for you. Your injuries are just too extensive. Why did you attack us?"

Kronin swallowed hard. "Your name," he said, "the commander thought you were _him_."

"Who - he thought I was who?" Blake asked. Kronin recounted the story of a terrorist, who's activities had become almost legend among the people of the Federation, both military and civilian. The man's name had been Roj Blake. Blake had been traced to the planet Gauda Prime where he was rumored to be building a new revolutionary army. Command reported that Blake and all his followers had been killed in a Federation raid on his headquarters, but they had claimed his death before. When the group commander heard the name Blake, he thought that the revolutionary had escaped again. He thought to destroy Blake and his ship, and claim credit for the death of a legend.

"I think the commander was afraid that if he hesitated or tried to capture you - er Blake - that you - that is Blake - would escape again. The Federation is very hard on officers who let this man escape. Also, officers who try to capture him have a tendency to die in the attempt. I think he figured that your - that is, Blake's - destruction was the only alternative."

"Fatal error," Blake said dryly.

Kronin never heard that last comment. His eyes just stared straight ahead. Kronin's body was cremated and buried in space, joining the crewmen Blake had lost passing through the black hole.   
  


Blake was more determined than ever to reach Earth. He didn't understand what was happening, but he was determined to find out. This whole thing made no sense. Federation security just didn't work this way. Security ships didn't open fire on suspect vessels just because they heard a name that frightened them. That was grounds for summary court martial. Officers weren't punished severely for not being able to catch a criminal. They were given the help and resources needed to accomplish their missions. That was the whole reason that Defiance was commissioned.

He had never seen uniforms like Kronin's. They weren't security uniforms - at least not from any branch he had ever seen. If they were Federation security - no, he couldn't accept that. But if they weren't security, then who were they? Clearly, Kronin believed it. Dying men don't make up stories like that. All the answers could be found on Earth. Blake was sure of it.

Ellis resumed a heading for earth. She picked up the speed, because now it was clear that the Federation knew they were here. But where was here? What happened to the Federation? Was this really the Federation, or was it just some horrible coincidence? Throughout history it had always been difficult to tell if governments were truly democratic by what they called themselves. Tyrants always call themselves president, and they would kill anyone who disputed their "election". If they were really merciful, dissidents might only be thrown in jail for the rest of their lives. Democracy by fear - that was the tyrant's way. They traveled in silence each asking themselves the same questions.

The comm scanner was activated again. Someone was hailing them. Tomkins responded, "This is the _Defiance_. Go ahead."

"This is Commissioner Sleer, representing the Terran Federation", a woman's voice said, "You won't take us by surprise again. Surrender your ship, and you will be treated fairly."

Blake was surprised by her brashness. He didn't know why, but he just didn't trust her. He decided to be cautious about this meeting. "I'll come aboard your ship," he said, "to discuss what happened. Remember - your people fired on us. We just defended ourselves."

"I am aware of that, Commander Blake", she stressed the name. "I know that you are not the criminal Blake. He is dead. We'll come along side, prepare to dock with us."

Tomkins switched off the comm link before Blake could respond. "Do it her way, sir, she doesn't know about our teleport or she would have asked you to use it."

Blake nodded and she switched the comm link back on. "We'll extend our air lock. I look forward to meeting you Commissioner."

Blake waited at the port side air lock for Sleer's ship to connect. "Be careful, sir", Tomkins warned.

"I will, Number One," Blake answered, "Stand by the teleport. If I yell, get me out of there fast. I'll use `breakdown' as a code word. Disconnect the air lock as soon as I'm over there."

"I still wish you'd carry a hand laser," she said.

Blake shook his head, "No, I don't want them to find it if they search me. Better if they feel secure."

The Federation ship came along side and Ellis sealed the air lock. Blake entered the air lock, making sure they sealed the hatch behind him. He crossed to the other side, and entered the Federation ship. He was greeted by a woman, beautiful and elegantly dressed. Somehow, he knew before she spoke, that this was Sleer. She was surrounded by guards, all female, all heavily armed. They all had the same cold look about them - like machines. If this was the Federation, it clearly wasn't _his_ Federation.

"Welcome," Sleer said, "I'm happy we could do this peacefully. Come to my cabin. Let's talk." She strode away gracefully.

_Oh, watch this one,_ Blake thought to himself, _That's a black widow if ever I saw one._ He followed her, knowing that her guards were close behind. Carefully, as not to be seen, he switched on his comm link. He wanted this monitored.

Sleer was clearly a seductress. Everything she did was suggestive. Her every word cut to the bone. She knew that her beauty was her best weapon. She directed Blake to a plush sofa in her cabin. The guards didn't come in, but he knew that they weren't far away. Sleer poured two drinks and sat down next to him. She was so friendly, Blake knew he was in danger.

He sat and waited for her to speak. She was in control of the situation, and she wanted him to know it. She just looked at him for a long time, making him ill at ease. Finally she spoke, "You remind me a little of Blake - you have the same eyes."

Blake silently took the drink from his hostess. He smiled slightly at the thought of his crew's impression as to what was happening here. Sleer, noticing his smile, continued, "I see deep conviction in them. I think you could make a tremendous contribution to the Federation. We could make quite a team, you and I."

She put her arm on the back of the sofa behind him. In his mind's eye Blake could visualize a knife in her hand. He resisted the urge to pull away from her. Instead, he played along with her little game. He relaxed back into her arm and sipped his drink. "Tell me about this other Blake," he said, changing the subject.

She stood up and strode across the room. "He was nothing - a criminal. We stopped him."

"Judging by the reaction of your people, I'd say he was much more than that," he rebuffed, "He clearly had quite a following."

"Rabble," she responded, "All killed except one, who we took prisoner. His name is Avon. He will serve as an example to anyone else who tries to defy the Federation."

She continued to tell her story. It was clearly slanted but Blake was able to filter out a few facts. This Avon was obviously one of Blake's most able leaders. Blake decided that he would have to try to meet this man; get his side of the story.

Sleer sat down again and continued, "With your help, we can put an end to this terrorism once and for all. I can arrange for you to be commissioned as a Space Commander, attached to Federation Security. Together, you and I can finally bring peace to the Federation. Then, perhaps, we could avoid the kind of misunderstandings that almost made us enemies."

She stood up again and put her drink down on a table. She held out her hand to him, and added, "Why don't you show me your ship."

Blake decided it was time to take his leave of her, before he got into trouble. He stood up, deliberately avoiding her hand. "Perhaps later," he said, "We've been having problems with some of our systems. I wouldn't want to experience a breakdown with someone of your stature aboard. Give me a couple of hours to complete repairs, and ..."

As he spoke his image began to waver slightly. Sleer knew immediately what was happening, but she could not react in time. His voice trailed off and suddenly she was alone. Her eyes grew wide and her hand fell to her side. Her face was red and she was shaking visibly, unable to maintain her usual calm image.

She ran to the flight deck, still shaking. "Open fire," she shouted, "destroy that ship now!" "We cannot ma'am," responded her pilot, "They are pulling away too fast. They are already out of range."

She sat in her command chair, watching the shrinking form of the Defiance on her view screen. "This isn't over Blake," she said calmly, having regained her composure, "We will meet again. And when we do, you and your ship will be mine."   
  


As soon as Blake was aboard, Ellis moved away at maximum speed. She knew Sleer would not like the way they had snatched Blake from her grasp. As Blake entered the bridge, they were rapidly pulling away from Sleer's surprised pursuit ships. Surprised as they were, they couldn't hope to match Defiance's acceleration.

"Where to?" Ellis asked.

"Gauda Prime," Blake responded, "Set course for Gauda Prime. That's the best place to begin our search."

Ellis looked confused. "Search for what?" she asked.

"Who," Blake answered, "We're looking for a man. A man named Avon. I think he can help us. If we have to make a life here, I don't want to be part of Sleer's government. This ship was designed to protect people, not subjugate them. I think this Avon can give us a little perspective. Also, if other revolutionary groups know that we snatched one of their own from the clutches of the Federation, it may help give them inspiration."

Kline looked concerned. "Do you really think we should take sides on this thing? It really isn't our fight."

"Face it Doc, this is home now. Could you live with yourself knowing that this kind of tyranny exists, and you did nothing about it?" Blake insisted. Perhaps he felt that this would make amends for his lost crewmen, but Blake was sure he was doing the right thing. 

The trip to Gauda Prime was uneventful. Two patrols passed within scanner range but they passed without spotting Defiance. Upon arrival scanners were used to locate Blake's headquarters. There wasn't much left. The Federation had burned the structures after removing all of the equipment. They thought to erase all signs of defiance to their rule.

Blake and Ellis teleported to the surface just out of sight from the ruins. Blake holstered his laser after a quick look around. Ellis was looking around for some sort of clue as to where to look next. It was clear that no prisoners were being housed here. One thing had to be said for the Federation - they were efficient. There was nothing here to show that anything had ever been here except a farm. They were about to give up when there was a rustle in the bushes to their right. Instantly both had lasers drawn. As they approached the bushes, Ellis saw a figure running away. Whoever it was, he was surprisingly agile and quiet. They followed the figure at a discreet distance until he reached a small, poorly kept shack.

They took up positions of cover outside. "In the building - no one's going to hurt you. Come on out." Blake tried to sound as unthreatening as possible. "We're not from the Federation. You're safe with us."

"The last man who said that to me tried to kill me." The man's voice sounded frightened though he was trying to mask it.

Blake holstered his laser and stepped out from his cover. He held his hands out to reassure the man in the shack. Ellis kept her laser trained on the door. The blanket covering the doorway pulled slowly to the side. The man stepped out. He was a small man, in tattered clothing. He looked as if he hadn't eaten for a week.

"I'm looking for a man. I'm told he survived this," Blake said, indicating the ruins they had just left.

"Then you're looking for me," the man said.

Blake and Ellis looked at each other. Could this be Avon? Hardly the kind of man Sleer had described. Besides, Sleer had said that Avon was her prisoner. Blake extended his hand, "My name is Blake. Roger Blake."

The man shied away. "No way," he said, "I knew Blake. I was with him from the begin-ning."

Blake and Ellis looked at each other again. "Then you're Avon?" he asked suspiciously.

"Avon?" the man laughed, "For all his brains, he couldn't get away. They took him away. Only I escaped. Only worthless little Vila. I dropped to the floor when the shooting started, and when it was over, everyone was watching Avon. I just crawled to a door and ran and hid. Nobody noticed I was gone. Come to think of it, I should be insulted." He seemed almost jovial now. "Is your name really Blake?"

"Yes," Blake answered, "If we take you with us, could you identify Avon?"

"I'd better be able to," said Vila, "he's the one who tried to kill me. He did kill Blake." Blake and Ellis looked shocked. Vila noticed, "He thought Blake had betrayed us. We all did."

"We'd better get out of here," Blake said, "We've been out in the open too long." He activated his comm link, "Three to beam up, Mr. Piper. 

When they materialized aboard Defiance, Vila looked surprised. "You have teleport?" It was as much a statement as a question. He looked at his wrist, surprised. "I didn't need a bracelet."

They allowed Vila to shower and eat before questioning him further. The uniform they gave him to wear didn't quite fit, and it added to the almost comical air he seemed to exude. When he had eaten and drank half a bottle of wine, Blake asked him to tell them about Avon. The story he told was as much about the other Blake as about Avon, but that helped them to understand it all. When he finished, Blake asked him if he knew where they would have taken Avon.

"Knowing Servalan, she probably will take him back to Earth and brainwash him. Then she'd keep him as a pet. She likes men, she does."

"Who's Servalan?" Tomkins asked.

"She used to be president. Nasty lady. Short black hair. Blacker heart," Vila answered, "She goes by the name Sleer these days."

"I've had the pleasure," Blake said with a grin.

"If it was a pleasure, it wasn't her," Vila came right back, "Even her own people want to kill her. That's why she changed her name."

Everyone laughed. "Toni," Blake said, still laughing, "set a course for Earth. We're going home. It's time we see just what `home' has become."

"Why do I always end up with people who don't have enough sense to stay away from danger?" Vila asked, aloud, but really to himself. "If you're gonna drag me to the Dragon Lady's lair, I might as well enjoy it." He picked up the wine and left for the quarters they had assigned to him. Again they all laughed.   
  


"Vila, could you come to the bridge, please?"

Vila stirred in his sleep. "Come on Dayna, leave me alone. I'm tired and I have a headache."

"You always have a headache when there's work to be done. Now get up." Dayna laughed.

Vila rolled on his back. "Alright, I'm coming. Keep your shirt on," he said.

"Vila, please respond." He opened his eyes. For a moment he was disoriented. Slowly, he realized where he was. Dayna's voice was just a dream. Dayna, Soolin, Tarrant - they were all dead. A tear began to roll down his cheek. So many people had died - so many friends. Gan, who had been his protector, was the first to go. He hadn't allowed himself the luxury of sorrow at the time. Cally, sweet caring Cally. She was the only one who had ever taken him seriously. Now she was gone too. He wanted to blame Avon for everything, but somehow he couldn't help but miss him too. And Blake - but Blake was back. He didn't look the same, but the same fire was there. The two Blakes had more in common than their name. Vila felt almost as if he had just come back in a different body.

"Vila, will you please respond?" The voice of Barbara Tomkins was coming from a speaker by the door. She did sound a little like Dayna, he thought. He stood up and crossed the room to the intercom panel. He looked at it for a moment, then pressed a button. A loud claxon sounded. Quickly, he pressed the button again. When the noise stopped, he pressed the other button on the panel. "Sorry," he said meekly, "I hit the wrong button."

"That's all right, Vila," Tomkins replied, "When you wake up, would you please come to the bridge?" Then as an after thought, "you'll find some aspirin in the top drawer."

Vila stepped onto the bridge, yawning. He was kind of proud of himself. He had only gotten lost once. Blake and the engineer were there. _What was his name?_ Vila thought to himself, _Oh yes, Piper_. He could appreciate their ingenuity. They had come in fast and moored to a large satellite. If the Federation scanned the area, they would see only one contact, and assume it to be the satellite. It would take a visual sighting by a close passing ship to spot them. "We've located two places that appear to house prisoners in the main government complex," Blake said, "Do you know which one they would have Avon in?"

Vila looked at the diagram on the table. Piper had drawn it up from his scans of the area. Two areas were marked in red. "These two sections contain a series of small rooms with metallic walls," Piper explained. "This one," he indicated the one on the left, "has several larger rooms, and is adjacent to the medical complex."

"He won't be there," Vila said. "Even Servalan isn't sadistic enough to turn him into a mutoid."

"What is a mutoid?" Blake asked.

Vila thought for a moment. "The Federation takes some of it's delta class citizens who don't have much of a future, and changes them into the perfect soldiers. Unthinking, completely loyal, living machines."

Blake shook his head. These people were worse than he thought. "Okay, then we start here," he said, indicating the other complex. Tomkins and Kline entered the bridge. Tomkins held out a jacket and belt like her own to Vila.

Vila looked at the equipment, then at Tomkins. His eyes grew wide, and he shook his head. "No way," he said, stepping back and waving his hands, "Not me. If you want to get yourselves killed, go ahead, but not me."

"Look, you're the only one who's ever seen him. We need you to identify him," Tomkins said as she put the equipment in his hands. "Besides, I believe it was you who bragged about an uncanny knack for opening locked doors."

"No, you look. Security in the lock-up is tighter than the Presidential Palace. The second you get there they'll know it. They have cameras everywhere." Vila seemed adamant.

Blake walked over to Vila. "Consider it inspiration to move quickly, but like it or not, you're going," he said sternly, and helped Vila on with his jacket.

"Nothing ever changes," Vila muttered as he followed them to the teleport room.   
  
  


Blake set the coordinates. "Look," he said, "no chances. In and out quick. If you get in trouble, shout and we'll pull you out." Vila was about to protest again, but Blake activated the teleport.

They materialized directly beneath a security camera. Vila reached up and cut the wires to the camera. "It'll take them about ten minutes to check out all the systems in the monitoring room," he said, "then they'll be all over us."

Tomkins moved toward the nearest cell. "Then we'd better not waste any more time," she said coldly.

They checked each cell in the corridor. The prisoners all looked the same. Maybe it was the surrender in their eyes. Some had obviously been tortured. Unset broken bones in the arm and hand of one prisoner had healed in a contorted shape that little resembled a human arm. Kline had to turn his head. He became angry at the thought that any civilized society would withhold medical care from people. Then again, there was nothing civilized about this place.

Vila approached the last door in the corridor tentatively. He slid the inspection panel open and peered inside. There was a platform in the corner that served as both table and bed. There was no other furniture in the room. Perched on the edge of the platform was a man. He was thin from malnutrition and mistreatment, but he sat perfectly erect. He was a picture of defiant pride. He was bearded and wore the same clothes as the other prisoners, but Vila recognized him immediately.

Vila felt intimidated, as if the situation were reversed. He rapped lightly at the door. "Avon?" he said quietly.

The man in the cell just stared straight ahead. "Hello, Vila," he said calmly, "you certainly took your time getting here."

Vila shook his head. "I didn't have to come after you at all, you ungrateful..." he stopped short.

"Well, you're here now, so either kill me or open the door, but get on with it." Avon was still staring straight ahead. He showed no emotion at all.

Vila called to the others and went to work on the lock. Suddenly there was the sound of Federation guns nearby. Kline ran over to him. "The gig is up," he said, "She won't be able to hold them off long, so let's pick it up, huh?"

The door swung open. Vila smiled and said, "I do my best work under pressure."

The two men entered the room. The doctor made a quick evaluation of Avon. "Can you travel?" he asked.

Avon looked at him and then at Vila, no emotion apparent on his face. Vila nodded, "They're friends," he said.

Avon looked at Kline. "I'll have to," he said as he stood up. His body protested the movement and he let out a stifled groan.

Tomkins jumped in the door, firing her laser around the doorway. "Is that him?" she asked. Vila nodded. "Good. Let's get out of here. It's getting a little hot for my taste." She fired three shots out the door and ran over to the others. "Bring us up, Skipper," she said into her comm link.

Guards burst into the room firing wildly. Their shots ripped into the walls of the empty room. They all stood there as if they didn't know what to do next.   
  
  


Dr. Kline took Avon straight to the Med Deck. Considering his ordeal, he was in surprisingly good shape. The doctor gave him an injection of nutrients to help build up his strength, and took him to a cabin that was set aside for him. Avon was asleep as soon as he lay down. Kline went to ships stores and picked out a uniform in what he estimated was Avon's size. They could give him the rest later.

Avon slept for fourteen hours. His dreams were tortured. His mind just kept replaying his last battle over and over again. Again and again he saw his companions go down. First Dayna, the shock of her own death frozen on her face. Vila, who somehow he knew was uninjured. Soolin, the master gunfighter, killed after firing only one shot. Finally Tarrant, bold, brash Tarrant, fighting to his last breath. All of them, gone. But Blake haunted him the most. The surprise on his face as he died by Avon's own hand. A terrible misunderstanding. Avon would suffer from it for the rest of his life. He had killed many people and never shed a tear. Never felt the guilt. Never allowed himself to become vulnerable. But Blake was different. Blake was his friend. And now he had killed that friend.

He woke up, bathed in sweat. As alertness came to him, he remembered the events of his rescue. So, Vila was alive. He was right. He stood up and, seeing the clothes on the table read the note Kline had left for him: 

Avon,

You're among friends. You'll find a washroom through the door near the bed. When you're ready, call for Vila on the intercom. The controls are on the wall next to the door. Vila will bring you food and anything else you need. Then we'll talk.

Dr. Kline 

Avon went into the washroom. He stood for several long moments, looking at his face in the mirror. It had only been ten weeks since Gauda Prime, but he looked as if he had aged as many years. He almost didn't recognize the face in the mirror.

He stripped and stepped into the shower. The hot water felt good. He stood there, savoring the feeling for some time. When he finished, he looked into the mirror again. He sighed. No amount of soap and water was going to be able to wash the blood from his hands. He shaved the beard which had grown during his captivity. His cheeks were drawn, and there were wrinkles around his eyes.

He dressed in the uniform Kline had left for him. It fit no better than Vila's, but somehow he made it look better. No one could look at Avon and see anything comical. He stepped out into the corridor. It was clearly a large ship. He went back in and switched on the intercom. "Vila, this is Avon," he said.

A claxon went off. When the noise stopped Vila's voice came across the speaker, "Sorry, I did it again. Yes, Avon."

Avon chuckled to himself. `Same old Vila,' he thought. "Yes, Vila. I'm ready. Come get me." He sat down on the bed, and waited for Vila.

Vila led him to the ship's galley. Despite his intense hunger, Avon ate slowly and deliberately. Vila offered him wine with his meal, but he refused, drinking water instead. He was determined to keep a clear head, as he still wasn't convinced that this wasn't a Federation trick.

While he ate, Vila filled him about the events of the last couple of days. He told Avon of the meeting on Gauda Prime when he, himself was rescued from exile. He told him about the ship - at least as much as he could. Vila never was very good with things technical.

Avon heard the door open behind him. Vila looked up. "There's some one I'd like you to meet," he said. As Avon began to stand up Vila said, "Kerr Avon, I'd like you to meet Roger Blake."

Avon dropped back into his seat. "That's not funny, Vila," he said sharply, looking straight ahead.

"It may be cruel of him to tell you that way," said a voice from behind him, "but my name really is Blake."

Avon stood and turned to face the source of the voice. He wondered to himself if this could be a relative of Blake's. There was a resemblance, especially around the eyes. "I'm not that naive," Avon said. "It's good, but not that good. You can come out now, Servalan."

"It's no trick, Avon," Blake said. "You're free."

Avon smiled. "Free," he said, almost sarcastically, and walked out without another word.

Avon returned to his cabin and lay down on the bed. His mind raced from the day's events. After a couple of minutes, Blake came in. Avon just lay there with his eyes closed.

"You really can't blame him for being angry," Blake said, "just as I don't blame you for being skeptical." He paused for a moment. When Avon said nothing, he continued, "Look, hear me out. Let me tell you how we got here. Then Piper will give you a complete tour of the ship. Anything you want to see. Then, if you're still skeptical, we'll take you anywhere you want to go. Then you're on your own. I hope you'll decide to join us, but no one's going to force you. It's your decision."

Avon opened his eyes. "What reason do you have to trust me? Remember, I killed the last man who trusted me."

"Only one," Blake answered, ignoring the last comment, "We have the same goal - freedom. And the only way to gain true freedom is to help in the overthrow of the Federation. We need each other, Avon. We need you." He held out his hand. Their eyes met. Avon took his hand.   
  
  


Avon stood on the bridge thoughtfully. Blake stepped up next to him, unnoticed. "A penny for your thoughts," he said.

"What?" Avon asked, startled.

Blake chuckled. "An ancient cliche' " he said, "It means - what's on your mind?"

Avon looked thoughtful. "I was just thinking. What if your name isn't a coincidence?"

"What do you mean?" Blake asked.

Avon turned to face him. "What if your name is the same because you're related?"

Blake looked puzzled. "That can't be. Remember, we came from somewhere else - from some kind of parallel existence."

"You miss my point," Avon said, "What if you traveled through time instead of dimension?"

Blake shook his head. "No," he said, "I checked the computer history. Our Federation was never anything like yours."

"You're operating from the assumption that you would only pass backward in time. Our history is rather vague beyond the last couple of centuries. The histories were replaced with Federation propaganda years ago. I don't think anyone knows the truth." Avon knew he had struck a nerve.

"That's impossible!" Blake said, "I've never been married. And I don't have any children."

"Yet," Avon's one word answer cut to the bone. "I believe that Blake - our Blake - was descended from you. There is a family resemblance."

Blake looked away. He was silent for a moment and then he said, "If you're right then I must find a way back to where I came from or..."

Avon cut him off, "Or our Blake will never have existed. History will change drastically. Blake saved my life... and Vila's on more than one occasion. We would both be dead."

Blake looked around the bridge. Everyone was looking at him, their mouths open from surprise. "I... I can't accept that. You're wrong. You must be."

"I may be," Avon said, "but can you afford to take the chance?"

Blake sat down in his command chair. Avon looked at the view screen and smiled. 

**THE END?**


End file.
